Nice to Meet You
by Lady of Termina
Summary: Three first encounters between John and Rose.


Disclaimer: I do not own _Homestuck_.

* * *

When she finally finds him, his charred skin has begun to cool and congeal, the stench making her nauseous so that she wrinkles her nose as she kneels beside him (absurdly, she feels guilty for this; she doesn't wish to hurt his feelings). Blood smears mark the path he crawled to get this far, leading around a corner and into blackness. Miraculously, the boy is still alive, and he even smiles feebly at her as she cradles his head in one of her slim, pale hands. She smiles as warmly as she can back, fighting the urge to be sick at his festering wounds.

"Nice to finally meet you, Rose," he offers, his low croak reverberating off the cold stone the tunnel is made of. The darkness is oppressive, and she feels her knees get wobbly as she entertains the notion of his denizen creeping up on them to finish him off—he is too heavy for her to carry him out, and surely he can't walk. She dismisses this and lowers herself to the floor, placing his head full of curly, ebony hair in her lap. She's never been good with intimacy—half the kids in her class ignored her existence completely, and the other half mocked her endlessly. But she will try for him, in his final hour. A shiver tears down her spine that has nothing to do with the chill in the air.

She doesn't know what to say to him. She has speculated over the events surrounding death before, purely for fictional purposes, but now that she is looking it smack in the face with somebody she cares about, her normally talkative mind cannot formulate a single thing to say.

He grins crookedly up at her, a small dribble of blood escaping his mouth and running over his chin. He must be thinking the same thing as she. Absentmindedly, she brushes it off and says the only thing she can think off.

"Hello, John."

His head nods back into her lap ever so slightly, almost as if he were falling asleep. Her lip curls at the thought. How cliché. Who ever went into a peaceful sleep after gaining such extensive burns?

Boldly, he takes the hand that is not underneath his head in his own, and she notes with alarm how cold his skin is, how it's peeling away as he clenches his fingers with surprising strength around hers. He squeezes it affectionately; his eyes seem to tell her that her company is enough. She nods back at him, ashamed of her silence.

"I knitted you a bunny."

It's out in the air before she can recall it, and she's mortified. Is this really what she wants to discuss on his deathbed? But his eyes widen in glee and he makes a motion with his hand like he wants her to go on. So she does.

"I made it from a bunny I have had since I was a child. It is a bit raggedy, but I assumed that it would be appropriately sentimental to satisfy you."

The corners of his mouth quirk up, and she places a hand on his chest, monitoring his breathing. It's become ragged and shallow now, his desperate gasps amplified in the confined space. She can't think of anything else to say. She is terrible at providing comfort.

It doesn't matter, though; seconds later, he manages to gasp out, "Thanks for being a great friend all these years, Rose", sounding sick and yet cheerful at the same time. His chest stops moving and so does hers as she waits for it to resume its agonized up and down motions.

It doesn't.

The tears pool up faster than she would have expected, tumbling down her face silently as she plucks his dorky glasses off of his unmoving face, getting a closer look at his deep blue eyes, still wide open. She lets them fall freely—no one's around to see this little display, after all, and she's sure they would understand, anyway. Her index and middle fingers touch his eyelids so lightly she may as well not be making contact, and she sneaks one last look at his beautiful eyes (she never knew blue could be such a pretty color) before she closes them to the world forever.

She remains in the corridor awhile longer, not responding to the messages Dave frantically sends her. Later, when she tells him what happened, she doesn't provide details.

He doesn't ask for any.

* * *

He's shocked to find her in the castle, really. He had expected it to be lonely, with only his father there and Rose's mother, but certainly not _Rose Lalonde _herself. The transportalizer had taken him to a larger room with a dais situated in its center, steps leading off of it to a mess of many colored curtains. He's more interested in Rose, though—the only time he's ever seen her has been the occasional crappy picture she'd take with her webcam to assure him that _no, she is not amused_, and those had been of grainy quality with lots of shadows obscuring her facial features.

She has something like those shadows now, though. A black aura surrounds her, with tendrils flickering here and there, growing smaller and larger like flames. Her skin has turned an ashen grey, accentuating the light color of her hair, which also contrasts with her straight black dress. The only bright colors present are the soft, strange lavender of her eyes and the shocking pink of her undershirt and what he thinks is a scarf wrapped around her waist, trailing behind her. At least it looks it's a scarf. Maybe she made it herself?

She looks equally shocked to see him, but she approaches him, and his face breaks out into a relieved smile.

"Hi Rose! Wow, I did not expect to meet you here!" he enthuses, elated to know he won't have to wander these halls searching for his father all by his lonesome.

Her reply only serves to confuse him. The sounds are sluggish yet fluid at the same time, a totally alien language to him.

"Heh…what?" he asks, drawing the conclusion that this is just some strange prank she is playing on him. But no one can defeat him, John Egbert, the pranking master, and he is determined to catch her in this shitty prank. "Also, why are you all grey like that? You look weird."

Whoops. Irritation flashes across her face, and her eyes narrow as she retorts in a scathing tone. He's kind of glad he can't understand it; she probably just cussed him out in weird voodoo-speak or whatever.

Growing even more fed up with his lack of knowledge, she shouts at him, the gurgles even more horrifying at such a loud volume. He brushes it off and just gives it to her straight: "Rose, I can't understand a word you are saying. It is a lot of sillyspeak and gobbledygook."

She is even less amused when he puts two and two together and informs her that she has gone grimdark (he is very pleased with himself), making a reference to Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff. He spends the next several minutes trying to decipher her words, but at the mention of their parents he's eager to leave the room behind, feeling a twinge of guilt after he upsets her by mentioning their state. He wants to hug her and tell her he's sure they're fine, but he's not sure if she would be okay with that, what with him being unable to understand her. So he holds off the hug.

Sighing exasperatedly, she walks past him and shoves aside a gargantuan, golden statue of a frog, revealing another transportalizer. He steps onto it after she disappears, and they are in another part of the castle. The grey and black checkered tiles have footprints of blood leading up the steps, and he pauses for a split second. He wants to tug on Rose's sleeve and ask her how these got here, but she doesn't slow down at all, if she even notices his hesitance. He runs to catch up to her as they enter a hallway filled with shelves stacked floor to ceiling with dusty tomes. The doubt begins to set in then.

The hole they enter opens up into a large chamber, bodies scattered about with blood oozing out of them. He lets out a muffled shriek at the gruesome sight and finally asks her what's going on. From what he can gather, Jack is behind this mass slaying. He takes the time to compliment her on her pillow and wardrobe, and she seems mollified. The shipping chart tugs at the back of his mind, covering up the nagging doubt that had been there not a moment before.

After that he tries not to look at the ground with each new room they enter, but he doesn't want to step on anyone's body, either. He solves his problem by squinting at the floor every few feet or so. They ascend even more stairs, split up by zigzagging hallways with light pouring in through the windows. It's in one of these that he thinks to bring up Karkat's shipping chart.

"By the way," he pipes up, and her back stiffens in front of him. "Did you know that Karkat thinks we are supposed to be married?"

She turns around to face him, her voice smooth as she asks… whatever it is. Suddenly he freaks out, thinking that they are only thirteen and they are way too young to be thinking about things like this, regardless of what he feels for he—er, how they feel for each other. He backpedals, assuring her that he wasn't proposing and that it was only an attempt to make conversation. She only stares at him and he decides he's stuck his foot in his mouth enough for one day, so he follows after her in silence.

When they reach the rooftop, all the lightheartedness from before is sucked out as if by a vacuum, his father's corpse being the first thing he sees. The next thing he sees is Jack Noir, the thing who _killed him_, and he's pulling out his hammer, the grief overwhelming his senses and making him irrational. There's no way they can take on such a powerful being right now, but all he really cares about is vengeance for his father, technically his brother, who had a penchant for baking cakes a lot and wasn't really into clowns. The man who raised him and who he was slightly derisive of for the past year or so. The man he unwittingly dragged into this game, making him at least partially responsible for his death.

He doesn't get his revenge, though, because Jack strikes out immediately, slicing the sword cleanly through his chest and his legs buckle underneath him. He falls.

When he wakes up, Rose is curled up beside him, looking so peaceful he'd be sure she was dozing if it wasn't for the huge hole in her chest, blood pooling around her. Her headset appears to be going haywire, and he removes it from her head, the guilt and fear mixing in his stomach as he tries to ignore the situation in front of him. _She's not dead she's not dead not dead not dead_

It's Vriska. She's been contacting him through Rose's Pesterchum handle, and he manages to catch the tail end of her monologue—he has to kiss Rose to bring her back to life. For some reason Vriska is noticeably uneasy about this, but he doesn't stop to puzzle it out. Rose needs him.

He looks down at his longtime friend, hopeful yet full of misgivings at the same time. _What if it doesn't work?_ The fleeting thought passes and he shakes his head, trying to rid it of all negativity. Leaning down, he self-consciously blushes at what he's about to do, and then in one swoop meets her lips with his. They're still warm, and John shudders, thinking about how wrong this is. It's his birthday. He's just turned thirteen, and his dad's been killed, he's died himself, his best friend is now dead as well…

His lips hover over hers, and he pulls away, her body still in his arms, limp. He doesn't know what to do; it feels wrong to just leave her there and continue on with his business like nothing happened, and he halfway expected her body to disappear or something. He holds her close to him for a second and then sets her gently down onto the bloody flagstone, his hands lingering by her sides until he wrenches himself away from her, mind still plagued by the feel of her dead lips against his and the thought that _maybe I'm too late_.

He's too young to be thinking about things like this.

* * *

When the meteor finally lands on the deck of the monstrous golden ship, Rose hangs back, watching the others hurry off. Dave stands beside her impassively, hands in his pocket.

A few minutes pass in silence—not uncomfortable; they've gotten used to spending time together, whether talking or not—before he addresses her. "Yo, Lalonde. You do realize we have to get off of here sometime, right?"

She arches her eyebrows, not in the mood. "I am well aware, Dave. I was merely preparing myself."

He snorts and swaggers away, pausing before he steps off. "They're still gonna be our friends, Rose. I thought you'd know that. Y'know, being the Seer of Light and all."

She frowns at his back. "I highly doubt degradation in our friendship would result in us failing in our quest."

"You sure about that?"

She doesn't answer, and he hops off the meteor to catcalls below and a loud whoop from who she presumes is John. She straightens herself and runs her hand over her orange robes, attempting to regain her composure. She hasn't spoken to him in years, and the one time they were able to meet face to face she couldn't form a coherent sentence. And they both died. Can't forget about that.

Striding forward, she hops off the meteor, landing gracefully on her feet a little ways below. The first thing she sees is Jade, even more willowy than she was as a child, and then Jade's head buried in Dave's chest, furry white ears flat to her dark hair. He's mumbling something at the same time she is, finally speaking up louder. "Christ, Harley, I should've told you. I'm sorry for putting you through that, that wasn't cool."

Her arms tighten against his back and Rose suddenly feels out of place, a voyeur in some private, heavily emotional scene. She scans the crowd, looking for the dorky boy she first started playing the game with three years ago. Finally she spots him—or who she thinks is him. A tall, broad-shouldered, bespectacled boy is deep in conversation with Karkat, gesticulating wildly with much laughter as the shorter troll gives him sour looks, fighting a smile. He has on blue pajamas that match his eyes, and his hair is shaggy, looking like he hasn't cut it in months, maybe years. In the middle of a sentence, he happens to glance in her direction. He does a double-take.

Saying something to Karkat, he makes a beeline for her, and she does the same. Her hood, thankfully, is covering half her face, so she has to peer under it to see him, but at least he can barely see her. They stop two feet away from each other, and his face splits into the widest grin she's ever seen—especially when someone is looking at _her_.

"Rose!" he exclaims, and for a second she's shocked to hear how deep his voice has gotten, coupled with how blessed he now is vertically.

She dips her head in return. "John."

"Wow, it's so great to finally be able to hear your voice! I really missed you guys these past three years." He scratches his head sheepishly, sneaking a peek at Jade. "Not that Jade and I don't get along well, it's just…"

"I understand. It was a test of my patience to spend more than a week with Dave, to be frank."

He laughs, and then he holds out his arms. She eyes him warily, but pleasure surges through her all the same. "May I hug you, Miss Lalonde?" he asks in an affected manner, and she rolls her eyes beneath her hood.

"Of course, Mr. Egbert, I would be delighted." She plays along, even throwing in a curtsy. Swifter than she expected, his arms are pulling her to his body, and it's then that it hits her how _tall_ he is, how different he is but still the same, and she relaxes into his embrace, closing her lavender eyes and crossing her arms one over the other against his back. Her face is tucked into his shoulder so that he can't see it, but the words she says next are still perfectly audible.

"I've missed you."

* * *

**End Note:** Um… First Grimdorks fic, woo hoo? I dunno I think this turned out okay. What say you?


End file.
